


House on Fire

by tayliefic



Category: Karlie Kloss - Fandom, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Anyway the Kaylor fandom just really needed a fic where one of them has a dick, BDSM, D/s, F/F, G!P, I can't believe that's a tag I just used, Or the Taylie fandom, That fun stuff comes in later chapters though (that was an intentional pun), Werepenis, whichever you prefer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6876958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayliefic/pseuds/tayliefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evening light makes her look like the beach personified, with the sunset in her hair and the ocean in her eyes and the sand in the slight freckles on her nose, "If it makes you feel any better, I've never actually like, had sex with someone with it."</p>
<p>"So we're both losing our dick virginities right now," Karlie says, and when Taylor laughs she can't help but grin back. </p>
<p>;;; Oneshot series. ;;;</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. turn the bed into an ocean

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of my friends told me this joking idea we had would actually make a really good fanfiction series, so I decided I would write it. So yeah. These are basically just a bunch of sinful oneshots where Taylor has a dick on the full moon. Which is just as weird as it sounds. But at least my smut writing is prettier than my description of what's happening here.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this horrible mess of sinfulness, and I'm going to go pray since I'm the one who wrote it...and who is planning to include several oneshots in this series whenever I'm in the mood to write them.

As Karlie peels off Taylor’s sweater, their skin sticky from an unsuspected heat wave that had blanketed over the Northeast, she finds that she’s shaking, just a little.

This isn’t the first time she’s done this.  She’s been getting girls out of their clothes in her bedroom since high school.  And it isn’t the first time she’s done this with Taylor, either.  The way her hands graze with ease over the place that makes Taylor’s stomach muscles twitch proves that.  The way that she presses her lips to the constellation of freckles on Taylor’s sternum without having to look for them also proves that.  They’ve done this before.

This is different, though.  She’s been with Taylor Swift for a solid nine months, officially.  They’ve been having sex for six of those.  Usually, she is bold and filled up with an ocean of confidence, riding the waves out easily.  Now, though, she is terrified, and it’s all because of the fact Taylor’s pelvis is pressed against hers, and there’s something solid between them that doesn’t usually exist.

It had been a strange realization, earlier that morning, when she’d gone to reach into Taylor’s pants and realized that what was usually there...wasn’t.  Taylor had panicked, pulling away like Karlie’s very existence was burning her, gasping apologies and stumbling up the stairs.  It had taken 20 minutes for Karlie to convince Taylor to unlock the bedroom door (and even then it was probably the fact she’d threatened to kick it down that had been the motivation).

The next hour had been Taylor hyperventilating and sobbing and generally just panic attack-ing her way through an explanation, one that had ended with her begging Karlie not to leave her, her arms clinging to the model like a child with a toy.  She’d been so pathetically scared, so deep in the throes of a panic attack, that as Karlie promised over and over she wouldn’t leave her she’d been wondering to herself if she needed to take Taylor to the hospital.

To put it simply, on the full moon, Taylor spent a slice of the night before with her stomach tied in painful knots.  And the next morning, the female part of her anatomy was replaced with that of a male.  It had been happening since she was 13.  Only her mother knew, until Karlie.  She’d been hiding it for months, avoiding Karlie on full moons so she wouldn’t find out.  Until today, when it had slipped her mind entirely.

And that’s how they’re here, standing in the middle of the bedroom, pressed together and kissing slowly.  Karlie isn’t even positive she wants to do this.  She’s only slept with girls for a reason.  She’s always the one that wears the strap on for a reason.  But seeing Taylor so scared and filled with hatred for herself was crippling.  So Karlie can do this.  At least once.  Probably even every full moon.  Because she loves Taylor, and wants her to feel normal and like she’s beautiful and wanted every single day, no matter how her anatomy happens to shape itself.

Karlie molds her mouth to Taylor’s neck, knowing they have no plans for the next few days.  They’re alone in Rhode Island, the windows open to bathe them in the scent of salt and the sound of the waves below.  So she’s free to ruin the skin with marks, and she does it happily, because she’s a little addicted to the way Taylor mewls like a kitten when she does.

One hand knots in Taylor’s hair at the nape of her neck, tangling in short blonde locks, letting them spill like gold over her fingers.  The other hooks in the waistband of Taylor’s sweatpants and pulls them backwards so she’s sitting on the bed with Taylor standing between the cage of her thighs.  She releases Taylor from her bra, and as her lips find the sensitive peak of a pale breast, Karlie slips her free fingers into Taylor’s waistband, palming her through her underwear.  It’s such a strange feeling, for there to be something thick there, warm and sort of weighty in her palm.  She’s not sure yet how she feels about it.

She  _ is  _ sure she likes the way that Taylor goes rigid, a tiny squeak edging out of her as Karlie touches her.  It twitches against Karlie’s palm, and she smiles up at Taylor, who is staring at her with parted lips and eyes blown wide, “You okay, princess?”

“Yeah,” Taylor whispers back, and her shaking hands urge at Karlie’s tank top.  The model pulls it off, and she’s bare-chested underneath, because at this point they’re too comfortable to feel the need to dress up just to have sex.  Taylor’s fingers trail over Karlie’s chest, thumb rolling against a nipple, and she manages to find her voice again, “Are you alright with this?”  She bites her lower lip, “We don’t have to do it if you’re uncomfortable.  I know...I know you’re...not really into  _ this _ .”

She says it firmly, but considering how hard she is, Karlie is sure it takes effort.  

So she smiles, bright as ever in the dark bedroom, “I’m into you.  Everything about you.”

It doesn’t take long before the rest of their clothes are on the floor, except for their underwear, and that’s when Taylor takes control.  Usually she’s the very epitome of submissive, but tonight she’s the one who pushes Karlie back and up the bed, so the model can prop her shoulders up slightly on the pillows.  Then Taylor settles between Karlie’s legs, running her fingers through long, honey-brown hair with a subdued smile on her face.  

Karlie doesn’t have to ask.  She knows what’s happening.  Taylor has spent 13 years terrified of how this could affect her life.  She’d spent this morning in pure, blinding panic at the possibility of Karlie leaving her.  This has something she’s been taught to be ashamed of, or at least taught herself to feel that way.  And Karlie is accepting it right now, above and beyond what even she herself expected, and Taylor looks so happy she could cry.

Karlie kisses her again, deep and needy.  Taylor tastes like toothpaste, and Karlie focuses on the mint flavor as she awkwardly squirms both of them out of their underwear.  It lacks grace, because the efficiency in pornography is a lie.  But they’re naked now, and she’s imminently aware of Taylor grazing her thigh.  She’s not sure if it’s scaring her or making her wet.  When Taylor leans down to kiss Karlie’s throat, she realizes it’s probably a little bit of both.

Recognizing that she’s scared at all makes it more prominent, however, and she realizes she needs a moment to realign herself.

“Hey,” Karlie murmurs, her hand catching the back of Taylor’s neck, pressing their foreheads tight together.  Her throat works under her skin, even though she tries not to seem nervous.  This is Taylor.  This is  _ her girl _ .  There’s no reason to be afraid of anything at all.  

But she is.

Fuck human nature.

Taylor nudges her nose against Karlie’s, her words warm as they fan across the taller girl’s face, “Everything okay?”

“I’ve just...I’ve never...” It’s embarrassing to say it now that her sticky tongue is trying to form the words.   _ I’ve never had the real thing inside of me _ .  Sex toys, sure.  But an actual...penis attached to a human body...that’s never held any interest to her at all.  The organ itself still isn’t even that appealing.  But Taylor?  Taylor is.  And that’s why Karlie is doing this.

Taylor smiles, her lips just barely grazing Karlie’s, fluttering against her mouth like butterfly wings, “You’re blushing.” Karlie feels her face flush even hotter, and Taylor finally connects them in a brief but deep kiss.  When she breaks away, she pushes up on her arm a little bit, so she can look at Karlie’s face better.  The evening light makes her look like the beach personified, with the sunset in her hair and the ocean in her eyes and the sand in the slight freckles on her nose, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never actually like, had sex with someone with it.”

“So we’re both losing our dick virginities right now,” Karlie says, and when Taylor laughs she can’t help but grin back.  She suddenly feels a little calmer.  One hand trails along the notches of Taylor’s bare spine, nails carving gently over each bone of her vertebrae like a mountain range.  The other locks into blonde hair so she can kiss her again (and as she does Karlie is left thinking about that one news article she read about how Taylor’s boyfriends broke up with her because all she wanted to do was kiss for hours, and even now she doesn’t understand how these kisses could ever be a bad thing).

Into the warmth of their connected mouths, Taylor murmurs, “I’ll take it slow.”  Then she bites Karlie’s lip playfully, tugging just a little.  Karlie releases a small sound, a purposeful whimper, one she knows Taylor can’t resist.  And she’s right.  Hips grind a little bit into her own, and the next gasp is entirely involuntary because  _ oh  _ that feels different.  There’s a thick swallow, and her head tilts back.  She feels vulnerable without her usual control, so she steels herself and says quietly but firmly, “I’m ready.”

Taylor doesn’t respond with words.  Instead she reaches over Karlie a little bit awkwardly, digging a condom out from the box on the nightstand.  Karlie closes her eyes and tries to steady herself as Taylor puts it on.  It takes a moment, but not very long because they’ve used them on the strap-on for the sake of cleanliness before.  Taylor doesn’t even know if she’s fertile because of the bizarre situation, but at this point Karlie does not want to be the one to find that out.  

“Alright,” Taylor says and settles between Karlie’s legs.  She runs her fingers over Karlie’s cheek, down her neck, and along her arms.  Their fingers knot together briefly as Taylor seems to try to deduce the best way to do this, and Karlie tries to pretend she isn’t a little bit terrified.  The model’s thighs press against either side of Taylor’s, and she can feel the nervous tension there.  It makes her feel a little better she’s not the only one struggling with confidence here.  So she looks up through her eyelashes and finds Taylor’s nervous-but-lust-darkened eyes and says, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Taylor replies, lips twitching into a smile.  It seems to give her confidence.  Her hands find Karlie’s hips and position them with awkward determination. The majority of her nervousness is obviously gone, or at least been pushed back with impressive grace, and Karlie feels like she’s taken it into her own body.  So she just locks eyes with Taylor, trying to focus on the swirling maelstroms of blue in the darkness, backed by the sloshing heartbeat of the waves.  Taylor leans forward to connect their foreheads again, and then with a slow but smooth motion, she pushes inside.

Karlie’s mouth falls open, a silent sound caught in her throat.  She hears Taylor mewl softly above her, feels the quiver of her arms.  It trembles like a small earthquake through both of them.  A hand finds Taylor’s bicep, an attempt to ground both of them.  It feels better than expected.  It burns a little, the same way her muscles do when she stretches too much after a workout.  But she also feels full and warm, and her nails press into the skin next to Taylor’s spine, just a little.  Her voice is a mixture of a moan and an awkward laugh, “Jesus.”

“You’re...you’re really tight,” Taylor’s voice quivers, and so does her jaw.  There’s no amusement or awkwardness.  Just pure awe, like Karlie is the religion she’s been searching for for the past several years.  She’s not usually the one who makes the comments like that, so to hear it breathless and weak in Taylor’s gravelly voice makes Karlie sigh out.  Her nails grip Taylor’s spine a little more aggressively, and the other hand knots back in that lion mane of blonde hair.

Everything feels heavy, even if it’s not entirely in a bad way, and Karlie whispers, “You’re not going to come in 30 seconds, are you?”  She’s teasing, because she’s so fucking overwhelmed and she needs to calm her heartbeat somehow before it shatters her ribcage.

“Shut up,” Taylor murmurs back, but she’s smiling now, even though her breaths are still shaky.  Her eyes twinkle with a new sort of determination, and Karlie has faith that she will last much longer than half of a minute.  Impressive, considering right now she’s technically a virgin.

After a few more seconds, Taylor finally rocks her hips against Karlie’s.  The motion surprises her even though she should have expected it, and Karlie finds her throat creating a soft, startled sound.  It feels strange, but she realizes that it also doesn’t feel  _ bad _ .  Not at all, actually.   She feels warm and full and her muscles twitch around Taylor inside of her, beckoning her to keep going, opening up to the soft rhythm of the friction.

It takes a while for them to find their pace, their hips jumbling in awkward time against each other for the first moment.  They’ve used the strap on, but somehow it isn’t as simple as that.  Their practice isn’t helping them here, or perhaps the nervousness and the crashing waves of sensation are ruining their ability to do this properly.  Whatever the case, it’s cluttered at first, and it’s only when Karlie forces herself to focus solely on moving together for a moment that she manages to figure out Taylor’s timing.

The feeling is even better when they get there.  Warm, warm, warm.  That’s what Karlie notices the most.  The soft garden of heat blooming all under her skin.  The ocean breeze climbing through the windows strokes their skin but she still feels heated in the best way.  Each thrust of Taylor’s hips spikes the temperature higher, and the pleasure in her stomach jolts more noticeably in return.  Taylor’s lips find her neck again, her hot mouth open against the skin, wet and occasionally sharp with teeth.  She’s whimpering quietly, the sounds humming against Karlie’s jugular.  Taylor’s hands are planted on either side of Karlie’s head, still, and out of the corner of her eye she can see them trembling.  She can see Taylor’s hair sticking to her forehead even from the angle they’re at.  Knowing how much Taylor is enjoying this is enough to make Karlie’s body clench, shuddering a little bit with the moan that tugs through her.

It feels better than she expected it to, and she realizes absently that she’s reaching the top of a mountain much more quickly than she usually does.  It’s a relief, though, because Taylor is shaking against her and her lips have stilled on one spot on her neck, breath spilling harsh against it.  And Karlie knows that Taylor is holding herself back with each grind of her hips.

Karlie fumbles for her own clit, rubbing against it in a way she’s done so many times, fingers forming neat circles.  She’s surprisingly sensitive, and her own touch makes her muscles clench in a way that causes Taylor to press into her a little tighter.  Karlie likes the way it feels, so with her free hand she reaches around and grips Taylor’s ass firmly, pulling her in closer, deeper.  It’s enough to make both of them cry out, and Taylor whimpers, “Karlie...I...”

“I know,” Karlie replies, breathless, “Me too.”

She feels sort of dizzy, like she’s floating a little bit out of her body.  She barely notices Taylor’s arms buckle as the blonde girl falls on to her elbows instead.  It brings them even closer, however, crushing Karlie’s fingers between their hipbones, their bare chests brushing with each breath.  Taylor’s open mouth grazes over Karlie’s with a sort of desperation, and the motion of their hips falls back into the disjointed, mismatched patchwork of a rhythm again.  

Taylor isn’t loud when she comes, but Karlie feels it.  She feels the shudder of muscles, the way they contract sharply.  She hears the way Taylor’s moans grow a little deeper, vibrating in her throat, against Karlie’s skin.  And for the first time, she  _ feels _ it inside of her body, too.  Karlie can’t hold back a soft sound of her own at the feeling of Taylor coming undone.

Her hips remain pressed deep and firm against Karlie’s even as she obviously begins to come down.  She rotates them slightly, and her fingers replace Karlie’s own, thumb nudging against sensitive flesh with familiarity.  That feeling combined with the sensation of Taylor still moving slightly deep inside of her is enough to make her break.  And god, the ruining feels beautiful.  She shatters like artwork, moaning low in her throat so it rattles her chest.  Her head falls back, nails scrabbling at Taylor’s back.  She vaguely feels herself break skin.  She vaguely feels Taylor’s teeth in her neck in response.

But she mostly feels like she’s floating, lost in the tremors that wrack through each nerve ending of her body.  It takes a long moment before she sinks back into the mattress and into her own body.  Breaths drag from her mouth, and weakly, she finds Taylor’s hair to run her trembling fingers through it.

Taylor’s breath is warm and shaky against Karlie’s neck.  Her thighs are still quivering a little bit, and she relaxes at the feeling of Taylor’s exhausted body against hers.  It’s different than usual, in bed all tangled up together in sticky sheets, because the other girl still hasn’t pulled out yet.  But somehow it still feels  _ right _ , and Karlie realizes in that moment that basically nothing could feel  _ wrong _ if it happened with Taylor.

“That was...” Karlie breathes out, but she trails off as she tries to think of a good descriptive word.  Words aren’t really her thing, and her brain still feels sort of spongy anyway.

Taylor kisses her neck a couple of times, then tilts her head up to give Karlie a smug little grin.  The sun has almost set completely, and the deep purple light catches her eyes and make them look sleepy silver, “The best sex you’ve ever had?  Yeah, you don’t have to tell me.”

Karlie laughs, shoving at her shoulder, but not hard enough to push her off.  Just enough to jostle her, “I was going to say pleasantly weird, but sure, tell yourself whatever you want.”

“What a great headline that would be.  ‘Taylor Swift is Pleasantly Weird in Bed’.  How exciting,” Taylor’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, but her eyes and smile are bright, and with her hair all messy around her face and sticking a little bit to the sweat drying on her forehead, it’s hard to take her seriously.  

Karlie rolls her eyes, “You’re so weird.”

“Pleasantly weird,” Taylor replies, and this time Karlie does shove her away completely.

Taylor rolls off of Karlie’s body, pulling a face as she does, “This feels nasty.” She stands up, half-waddling to the bathroom to clean herself up.  Karlie follows to do the same, and when they trail back into the room, wrapped in fluffy bathrobes, Taylor pulls Karlie towards the balcony.  It faces the ocean, away from where potential paparazzi could catch them, and they settle on one of the soft water-resistant couches.

Taylor’s head nestles under Karlie’s chin, arms wrapped around her in a desperate way that reminds Karlie of earlier.  Except this time there’s no crying and hyperventilating, just peaceful breathing and the soft pattern of the ocean kissing the shore.  Taylor speaks softly into the fluff of Karlie’s robe, “Was it really okay?”

Karlie reaches for her, tugging her hair lightly so she can squint at Taylor’s face.  Their eyes meet, and Karlie grins at her so hard it hurts her face, “I can still feel it a little bit.”  She kisses Taylor’s nose lightly, “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?” Taylor asks, and Karlie wants to sigh.  She wants to be annoyed, because it gets frustrating when Taylor won’t believe her.  But she gets it.  She’s seen what has been said about Taylor in the past.  She knows what will be said in the future.  And she knows Taylor puts on a mask of strength, composes her spine out of marble.  But she also has held her while she sobbed because of another cruel joke made by someone Taylor thought was a friend.  Taylor is anxious and insecure, and it’s hard for Karlie to see it so often.

But at least she can do her best to make sure those monsters never come out from under the bed when they share it, “Promise.” And she’s actually sheepish when she continues, “I think I might want to do it again.  Next time it happens.  If you want to.”

Taylor’s smile is so big it looks painful.

They head inside when it gets fully dark.  They bake cookies in the kitchen, dancing around the island in their underwear and singing throwback songs at full volume until 3 in the morning.  They’re backed by the sound and the smell of the ocean, and Taylor looks so happy that she’s practically glowing like all of the constellations reflecting in the sea.

Karlie couldn’t ask for anything more than that.


	2. couldn't sleep last night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this got a way better response than I was expecting, so here's some more. This is like...6k words long. You're welcome.
> 
> Trigger warning for choking, I guess? I know that might be a problem for some people.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” 

Taylor’s voice is a hiss, breathed hot into Karlie’s ear.  The model nearly shudders at the feeling of her words stroking along the sharp arch of a cheekbone, a reaction that comes entirely involuntarily.  Taylor’s hand is on her knee, because it’s a commercial break, and the cameras aren’t focused on them at the moment.  She squeezes firmly, nails pressing in, and Karlie is grateful that she’d worn a short dress for once because the little Murad number scales high on her thigh and she can feel the press of the sharp edges against her skin.

She doesn’t show how much the feeling turns her on.  Instead she smiles at the woman next to her, not with her teeth but still broad enough to be mischievous, “What do you mean?”  Taylor’s hand tightens, enough for her nails to stamp marks into her flesh.  They’ll fade in moments, but they’re enough to make Karlie swallow back a gasp.

Taylor releases her thigh then, when they’re given the warning that the commercial break will end in 60 seconds.  She tucks her hand neatly in her lap, and Karlie’s eyes fall downwards against her will before she forces them to focus back on the other girl’s face.  Taylor does not look at all amused, her blue eyes dark in a way that strangers probably interpret as annoyance but that Karlie knows very well is something else entirely, “Do you know what day it is?”

Okay, maybe there’s some annoyance too.

Karlie shrugs,  innocently, and she thinks she manages to pull off the genuine question in her tone.  But she’s always been a pretty shitty actress, so she can’t be sure of that completely, “The BBMAs?  May 22nd?  Sunday?”

Taylor looks like she wants to grab Karlie’s leg and dig in again, which is way more aggressive than her usual nature but also a little bit hot.  They have only 20 seconds left now, though, so she drops her voice to a hiss, leaning back in close to Karlie’s ear.  If the taller girl happened to tilt her head she’d be able to have Taylor’s lips against the shell of it, stroking her skin while she speaks.  She resists.

“It’s the full moon, Karlie.”

She knows.  Ever since they’d gone through that whole revelation a few months ago, Karlie has been keeping track.  She’s realizing she looks forward to the day that the dynamic of their relationship in the bedroom changes, and that’s really weird for her to think about.  Considering how fucking  _ gay  _ she considers herself to be.  But it’s Taylor, and Taylor is hot all the time.  Which is exactly why Karlie is acting like such a tease tonight.  She feigns surprise, head tilting like a puppy, “Is it really?”

Taylor doesn't believe her act for a second, and Karlie can’t manage to be upset about it all that much.

The lights dim as they go live again, and Taylor turns her body more towards the stage.  It’s Justin Bieber performing, however, so at least Taylor isn’t obligated to dance or act like she cares.  It’s no secret that she still can’t stand him.  Karlie can’t even bring herself to continue the game she’s been playing tonight while he’s performing because she has no desire to dance along to this, so she keeps her focus on Taylor even though she smiles pleasantly at the stage in case the camera pans to them.

“You know it is.  I’m nominated for 5 of the awards they still have to announce, Karls.  Honestly, what do you think the media will do if I go up on stage with a----” Taylor trails off, motioning vaguely with her hands even though she’s still focusing her line of sight on the stage.

Even though she’s the one with the cock, Taylor sure sucks at talking about it. 

“A boner,” Karlie finishes, agreeably.

Taylor cringes, “That sounds like what my  _ brother  _ would say.”  She wrinkles her nose at the thought, but quickly softens her face as Justin launches into the final chorus, well aware she’ll get shit for it in the morning because people will assume she’s screwing up her nose at him.  Which she would do in a heartbeat, but that isn’t the point right now.

“Baby,” Karlie drags out, drawling in a little bit of a French accent she’s been practicing succinctly since she realized Taylor really likes it, “do you really think I would do that to you on purpose?”

Taylor doesn’t hesitate even a second, “Yes.”

“Princess,” Karlie replies, “I would never.”

Justin’s performance ends, and Taylor returns her gaze back to Karlie, eyebrows lifting high into her newly bleached hair, “You’re such a terrible liar.  You keep doing that thing where you bite your lip while you’re dancing.  And that dress.  Is that even a dress?  Literally the only parts that aren’t see-through are your nipples and your...your.... _ womanness _ .” 

Karlie can’t help it.  She bursts into laughter, clapping her hand over her mouth to muffle it, her head thrown back a little bit.  She feels Taylor’s eyes following the veins in her neck, so she doesn’t tilt herself back forward right away.  She bites the inside of her bottom lip to fight back her smile, retorting through her teeth, “Womanness.”

“Fight me,” Taylor replies, rolling those pretty blue eyes.

Karlie, not wanting to lose the game she’s started, replies with her first thought, murmured out of the corner of her mouth as the voiceover announces the nominees for top 200 album, one of the awards Taylor is nominated for, “What are you going to do?  Spank me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait until we get home.”

The response catches her off guard, and Karlie doesn’t have time to let it sink in, because Taylor is announced as the winner, and their banter is interrupted by the older girl squealing in excitement and jumping up and down in her heels.  Karlie stands as well, to hug her tight.  They don’t do more than that, because they’re not out yet and it had taken a lot of begging to get Tree to agree to Taylor bringing Karlie as her plus one.  But Karlie wants to kiss her.

And she definitely notices that Taylor is just a little bit hard against her thigh when they’re pressed together in a hug.

The black jumpsuit Taylor is wearing is just sleek enough to hide the unexpected anatomy while she’s on stage, and Karlie likes that it’s her little secret to keep.  Only she knows that the Taylor Swift up on stage thanking her fans for their support is not what anyone expects.  And only she knows that when Taylor sits back down next to her she is shifting in discomfort just as much as exhilaration about the award she has just won.

Commercial break happens again a few moments later, and Karlie leans in close to Taylor, angle specific so that there’s a pretty clear view down her dress.  She knows Taylor is aware that Karlie isn’t wearing a bra when the blonde licks her lips, staining her tongue a little bit with her own deep red lipstick.  Karlie is smiling, soft and pleasant, “You won’t spank me.”

Taylor smiles back in the same way, “I guess you’ll just have to wait until we get home.”

* * *

 

Taylor only picks up one more award, but she doesn’t seem all that disappointed.  Wins happen.  Losses happen even more often.  These days she doesn’t really let it get to her anymore.  And besides, the fewer awards, the less time she has to spend in the press room afterwards getting photographed.  Karlie waits impatiently in the wings with security, watching the way Taylor poses carefully to avoid showing any potentially questionable appendages.  Karlie hadn’t made it all that easy on her, and she is more than a little proud that just dancing seductively close to Taylor is enough to make her struggle to control herself.

She’s smirking a little bit, shifting in her heels, and one of the security guards who she has gotten close to leans over, “Eager to get home?” He’s grinning at her, because at this point Karlie and Taylor have made out in the back of the SUVs enough that the entire security team is at least vaguely aware.  Of their relationship.  Not of the dick thing, anyway.

Karlie laughs a little bit, smirking right back, “You have no idea.”

Because he doesn’t.  Not at all.

* * *

 

Karlie isn’t sure what she’s expecting when they get back to Taylor’s house in LA, but it definitely isn’t Taylor slamming her against the wall in the foyer.  There’s a sharp gasp, both from the suddenness from the gesture and from how hard her spine connects with the wall.  Taylor presses close to her, their hipbones grinding against each other in a way that is arguably painful.  Her mouth doesn’t connect with Karlie’s.

Instead it trails down her neck, hot and open-mouthed against the veins in her throat.  Dark lipstick smears across Karlie’s skin, and as Taylor bares lips to press in teeth, Karlie wonders if the bruises will even be visible under the make-up stains at the end of the night.  She doesn’t push Taylor away like usual.  She doesn’t have a shoot for a week, so she can afford a couple of marks.

The teeth clamp down, though, rougher than normal, and Karlie sucks in a heavy breath as the pain mixes with pleasure and hums eagerly through her body.  These marks might not fade, and she’s so confused by the way she thinks she feels her skin split, “Taylor?”

The other girl is never this rough.  Usually she mewls like a kitten and melts like ice cream.  She’s been a little less submissive on the full moon, preferring to be on top when they fuck, or topping from the bottom, at the very least.  But she’s never been  _ this  _ aggressive, and it’s kind of scary in a way that makes Karlie’s heart race and her cunt wet under the oppressive surface of her underwear.  She squirms, and Taylor uses hands on Karlie’s hips to slam her firmly against the wall again.  Another gasp, this one crumbling from her mouth like dust.

“You were such a brat tonight,” Taylor murmurs, tongue salving against Karlie’s collarbone.  

Karlie laughs, a little bit (perhaps a lot) breathless, “A brat?  What, am I five?”

Taylor catches her off guard again.   She pulls back, but her hand slips up with a purpose, wrapping around Karlie’s throat.  She only squeezes a little bit, but there doesn’t need to be any pressure at all to make Karlie feel dizzy.  Her thighs clamp together, searching for a little bit of friction.  Because the feeling of those guitar-calloused fingers pressing into her flesh paired with the way Taylor’s eyes are nearly navy as she stares at her is enough to make her almost desperate.

_ Oh how the tables have turned _ , her brain snarks.

Taylor doesn’t break the eye contact, like she’s locked up their gazes the way they locked their initials to a bridge a few weeks before.  Karlie is almost intimidated, and knows if she wasn’t as close to Taylor as she is she surely would be crumbling a little bit under that stare, “Yeah, I would consider trying to make me hard at a public, televised event pretty bratty.”  Karlie doesn’t even have time to smile a little bit sheepishly before Taylor continues, her voice dropped low, rough like the words are being drawn over gravel, “It was hard enough to convince Tree to let me bring you in the first place, Karlie.  I have a reputation to maintain, and that can’t happen if I spend the whole award show thinking about  _ fucking _ you.”

The way she snarls out that word makes Karlie’s face flush a little.  Taylor usually doesn’t swear all that much, and especially to an extent further than  _ shit  _ and  _ damn _ .  She squirms again, and she’s reminded quite succinctly of Taylor’s hand around her throat as it tightens a little bit, keeping her against the wall.  The edge of Taylor’s middle finger presses against the harsh bite she’d left, and the dull throbbing of that echoes with Karlie’s pulse, jolting like her breath.

She wonders, absently, if this is how Taylor feels whenever Karlie gets her desperate and pinned to to the wall or the bed or another surface.

Like she wants nothing more than to crumble, just so that the girl in front of her can build her back up.

If this is how submission feels, Karlie thinks she might have been missing out by not trying it sometimes.

Taylor leans in, lips finding Karlie’s just barely, with a soft brush of dark matte against pink gloss.  The model wants to kiss her fully, but she’s realizing she doesn’t think she has the breath to manage that.  Her eyes flutter closed, mouth parting, a tiny sound falling out with the exhale she releases.  Taylor’s voice doesn’t change from that rough tone.  It’s the vocalization of the way she feels when Taylor rakes nails down her back, she realizes, “ _ You _ are my biggest turn on.  But god, Karlie, I can’t go up on stage to accept awards and have all those cameras risk catching a picture that will blow this secret.”  She pauses, and Karlie doesn’t have to open her eyes to know she’s wrinkling her nose, “That was a bad choice of words.  But you know what I mean.  There’s no way to explain this.  The media would rip me apart.  They would rip both of us apart, because this isn’t  _ normal _ .  And I’m not ready for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Karlie whispers, finally opening her eyes.  Taylor’s own are still dark, still beautiful, and she shudders a little bit at the sight of them in front of her.  The shudder turns into a gasp when Taylor presses even closer against her, obviously hard, and then lifts her thigh to press it against the heat between the model’s thighs.

Her eyes close again, out of reflex, and Taylor’s hand squeezes her throat sharply for a second, “Look at me.” Karlie complies, lips parting in a mixture of arousal and shock.  Taylor looks like she’s smirking, but it’s hard to tell this close, “You know what you do to me.  Every single day.  But when...when this situation is involved, you need to tone it down.  I want to fuck you.  You  _ want _ me to fuck you.  But we need to keep that our secret.”

Karlie nods, swallowing thickly and feeling her throat muscles work against Taylor’s palm, “Am I in trouble?”

“I hope you don’t need to walk too much tomorrow,” Taylor replies.  Karlie is completely blindsided by it.  The confidence.  The dominance.  It’s so strange, and it’s also strange how much she  _ craves _ it right now.  Taylor releases her throat, grabbing her by the front of her dress instead, and Karlie almost stumbles when she follows Taylor into the living room.  There’s a long pause, and it isn’t until after Taylor’s voice wavers that Karlie realizes it was the older woman gathering her confidence, “Arm of the couch.  Bend over it.”

She complies, though, not sure why she’s giving in so easily.  She braces her palms against the arm of the chair, nails curling slightly.  Her legs are still pressed together, an attempt to relieve herself of mounting pressure.  She can still feel the ghost of Taylor’s hand around her throat and it’s making her even slicker than she was.  Taylor makes her stand there for a long moment, too, long enough she wants to squirm just to feel  _ something _ .

Then there’s a hand sliding her dress roughly up her back, so it bunches awkwardly around her hipbones.  The fabric is rough against her abdomen, but Karlie doesn’t get a chance to complain because a thumb presses against her through her underwear.  Hips jolt, and her head falls forward, curls caressing her cheek with the motion.  She arches backwards towards the touch, but Taylor doesn’t add any more pressure, just barely circling Karlie’s clit through the fabric covering it.

It becomes unbearable quickly, the teasing just making her even wetter.  Soon enough her underwear is absolutely destroyed, and Karlie is silently grateful for the fact that even though she isn’t an Angel anymore, Victoria’s Secret still gives her some pretty amazing discounts.  Because she won’t be wearing this pair again.  And that seems to be enough to satisfy Taylor, because she peels them away from Karlie’s cunt, down her legs but not all the way off.  Karlie squirms more, and realizes that this angle is going to get uncomfortable quickly with the contraptions her feet are shoved into.  So, as desperate as she is, she mumbles, “Hey, time out.  Can I take my heels off before my feet fall off?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Taylor replies, and Karlie is surprised when she feels hands undoing the strap on her left ankle.  Taylor helps her out of her shoes, with the ease of someone who wears plenty of heels herself.  It’s strangely domestic and sweet considering the position that they’re in, and Karlie smiles even though Taylor can’t see it, “What a gentleman.”

Taylor gives a little hum in response.  She doesn’t pull Karlie’s underwear any further past her knees, and instead trails fingers up her legs.  The nails curl, biting down occasionally to leave muted pink scratches across Karlie’s taut muscles.  She sighs, relaxing into the touches, so much so that when Taylor’s fingers graze against wet folds again she nearly jumps in surprise.  She settles for a tiny sound, pressed out when Taylor mimics her same motion from earlier, except with two fingers this time.  Slow, lazy circles ghosting over tender flesh.  

She recognizes the technique, especially when Taylor’s fingertips press against her entrance but don’t actually make any real effort to slip inside.  She’s done basically the exact same thing to Taylor many times before, trying to make her quiver with need until she’s forced to beg for it.  The blonde has been paying attention, and Karlie isn’t sure whether to be proud or concerned for herself.  Her brain doesn’t really know what to do with the unfamiliar position, or the sort of frightening sensation of submission.  So it settles on primal reaction, a blunt, base desire to grind her hips back into Taylor’s touch.

Taylor’s fingers dance out of reach, keeping Karlie from getting any real friction, and she murmurs obviously more to herself than Karlie, “You’re really wet.”

“You’re being a tease,” Karlie counters, absolutely hating the way each syllable tremors with a tiny earthquake.

The only response at first is a snorting sound, followed by the sound of rustling as Taylor obviously works to free herself of her clothing.  It’s a jumpsuit, which is incredibly attractive in itself and looks great up on the stage, but when it comes to sex, it’s the opposite of convenient.  So, Karlie has to wait several solid seconds for the fabric to hit the floor.  Taylor’s obviously working on opening a condom when she replies, “Did you turn yourself on tonight while you were trying to work me up?”

Karlie breathes out, a heavy, impatient huff, “No.  It was that thing you did against the wall.”

Another moment, but this time it’s just silence, heavy and pushing down on Karlie’s back.  She shifts uncomfortably, her body begging to be touched, her stomach protesting against the material of her dress bunched up around it.  She’s impatient, and that drives her to start to turn her head towards Taylor when suddenly, there’s a hand around her throat again, this time from behind.  It startles her so much that she chokes on air that seems to turn solid in her throat (and she honestly can’t believe she just choked on her own spit), “You mean this thing?”

Karlie nods, feeling helpless, and the hand tightens a little bit, forcing her to press upwards, bracing herself with only one hand instead of two.  Her back presses against Taylor’s front, and she can feel the bare skin against the fabric of her stupid dress.  Taylor’s breath is hot against her ear, and her hand is absolutely  _ burning _ against the front of Karlie’s throat.  She feels dizzy and off balance, and it only grows worse when Taylor’s hips settle snug against the backs of her thighs.  The muscle there jump-ropes under the tender skin, and she lets out a tiny whine as she feels how hard Taylor is against her.  She did that.  She’s the one who can get Taylor to that point, and it makes her proud.

Even though, considering the twitching of her muscles, she isn’t faring much better.  

Taylor’s hand doesn’t release her neck, and her lips find the underside of Karlie’s jaw, biting down.  Out of her peripheral vision, Karlie can see the hint of bleached hair and a faint rose garden of a blush on Taylor’s cheek.  That’s it, though, and it’s a little bit terrifying to have no idea what’s about to happen to her.  She wonders if Taylor’s fingers can feel her pulse skittering against her throat.  She wonders if Taylor can feel it absolutely  _ spike _ when the blonde’s hips grind into hers, and Karlie registers every single inch of Taylor pressed against her.

Her eyes fall closed, and she gasps out, “ _ Taylor _ .”

Taylor’s teeth find her ear and tug on the earring there, hard enough to make Karlie’s ear sting but not enough to damage the jewelry, “Hm?”

That single syllable is lilted with amusement, and Karlie knows in that instant what Taylor wants from her.  It slams into her like a bull, piercing her with ragged horns.  Taylor wants her to  _ beg _ .  Words formulate behind her lips, prepared to be snarled out through her teeth.  A promise that she doesn’t do that for anyone, ever.  She never has.  Their safeword is an option as well.  She could say the word ‘cookies’ and Taylor would let her and her expectations for pleading go right there.

But that would mean Taylor releasing her completely, and Karlie knows she couldn’t handle not getting anything considering how much she’s aching right now.  And the opportunity to have sex like this only comes approximately once a month, so she would be wasting it if she decided to say her out now.  She swallows again, flexing her neck under Taylor’s hand.  She grinds her hips back again, hoping to tempt her into giving in with just heat.

But Taylor is determined, and Karlie breathes out through her nose.  She thinks back to a few moments before, to Taylor’s disappointment with her behavior.  And for some reason she doesn’t even get, she feels really guilty for disappointing her, and like she needs to make it up to her somehow.  So she grinds her teeth, and the word comes out like she’s chewed it quite viciously.

“Please.”

It’s strange, to aim the shotgun at her own pride.  But Taylor purrs against her ear, and shifts so she’s resting at a better position against the apex of Karlie’s thighs.  And Karlie realizes she’s happy that Taylor is proud of her.  The same way Taylor has described loving the feeling of Karlie being proud of  _ her _ when she submits.  

She decides in that moment that she just needs to accept that all bets of normalcy are off when the full moon happens.

And then she doesn’t really decide or think much at all, because Taylor is inside of her.  

The sensation fills her, slow and burning hot.  It doesn’t stretch in a way that makes her sore anymore.  Instead it is a delicious sort of feeling, one that her body is gleefully willing to melt into.  She wants to collapse forward, but the arm she’s bracing herself with and Taylor’s hand still closed around her throat make that impossible.  Instead all she can do is rotate her hips backwards into Taylor’s own, her muscles twitching around the length inside of her.  She’s kind of glad this doesn’t happen all that often, because it makes the experience more exhilarating when it does occur.  There’s something so debauched about this, about the fact that Taylor’s cock is inside of her the same time her breasts are pressing against her spine, and  _ no one _ is allowed to know about it.

Taylor sets a pace right off that’s rough and maybe a little bit abusive.  Honestly, that’s all Karlie needs to know how much trouble she’s really in.  Taylor usually isn’t  _ confident _ enough to be this rough, and god, Karlie loves it.  She loves every goddamn thing about this.  The electric shock each time Taylor’s hips move, the sound of their skin connecting, the way that each of her harsh breaths is forced out when Taylor presses into her again, and how she can feel each of those breaths strain her throat into Taylor’s hand.  The older girl moans against her ear, a little bit guttural.  It sounds so smoky and rough and beautiful, and Karlie can’t help but let out a moan of her own in response.  

There’s the familiar tugging in her abdomen, the kind that starts out soft and gentle and increases as time goes on.  She was already wet and needy, but to have Taylor fucking her like this now is converting the feelings of frustration to ones of absolute pleasure.  Karlie feels like the world is spinning off its axis, ricocheting into the stars she sees splashed across her eyelids as they fall shut to the euphoria.  There’s a roaring in her ears, muted and distant, and just past it she can hear how hard they’re breathing.  Neither of them are extremely loud, but their breaths are still heavy and occasionally punctuated by slips of sound when Taylor hits exactly the right spot and Karlie’s muscles quiver tight around her in response.  

Taylor’s free hand is on her hip, and it digs in hard when Karlie tries to match Taylor’s rhythm by pressing backwards into her.  Nails carve into her hipbone, planting bruises then splitting them into crescent shaped wounds.  The friction is smooth because of just how wet Karlie is, but she can feel her body aching deep inside with the force of Taylor’s motions.  Teeth find her neck above Taylor’s fingers and bite down again, and Karlie realizes that Taylor isn’t just fucking her but staking claim over her,  _ taking _ her as her own.  And god, that should be humiliating.  Bending over a couch with Taylor inside of her and her knees quivering because of how weak the tremors of pressure make her feel should be humiliating.  But instead it’s so hot that Karlie’s stomach spins and she clamps her muscles around Taylor again, whimpering at the feeling and trying to memorize it.

Her free hand scrabbles for the one on her hip, and she finds it, tugging it down between her legs, trying to urge Taylor’s fingers against her clit.  Taylor’s fingers go limp in her grip, not even strong enough for Karlie to find her own friction against.  She knows what Taylor wants, and she grits her teeth again, grinding her hips into the useless fingers, “Taylor, please.”

It comes out a little easier this time.

Taylor bites at her earlobe, and then those long, talented fingers move against Karlie’s clit.  Where Karlie is good with her tongue and with the box of sex toys they have under the bed, Taylor’s fingers have all of that practice from guitars and pianos and ukuleles.  So they play Karlie like music, a strange, slow contrast to the way that Taylor fucks her.  Her hip is bruised where Taylor was gripping it earlier, her throat is definitely similar in appearance.  And every harsh thrust aches just as much as it makes her thighs quiver.  It makes her abdomen jolt pleasure through her body just as much as it burns her chest with every breath she struggles to take.

Taylor’s fingers roll in a specific way, the same time she thrusts into Karlie particularly harshly, and the model shudders, realizing exactly how close she is to falling apart.  Her eyes close so tightly the dark lids flicker with light, and she desperately rocks her hips, not sure if she should grind into Taylor’s cock or her fingers.  She collapses forward some, her hand scrambling to maintain balance, and Taylor’s hand tightens even more around her throat to keep her up.  It’s tight enough now she’s wheezing for breath, and the flickers of light behind her eyes turn to stars dying into supernovas.

“Taylor...”

It’s a whimper, and Karlie has never felt so  _ helpless _ .  

She’s still torn about whether she’s enjoying that or hating it.

Either way, she doesn’t have much time to think about it.  Because Taylor grinds into her rough and slow, and it’s enough to make her absolutely collapse into herself.  Karlie is suddenly grateful for the armrest of the couch for giving her balance, or else her trembling knees would have shattered their strength and put her on the floor.  So instead she is left digging her nails into the couch, every muscle twitching as that warm, buzzing pleasure rips through her.  She thinks she hears Taylor moan out her own release.  She thinks she feels the blonde shake where she’s pressed close to her back.  She thinks she hears herself try to cry out.  She isn’t sure, though, because Taylor’s hand has absolutely clamped down on her throat, and it’s so tight she’s struggling to breathe at all.  She feels like she’s floating, and she doesn’t think she’s ever come to the point her vision flickered out.

When the euphoria finally drags through her completely, Karlie collapses against the pillows tucked into the corner of the couch.  It breaks the grip of Taylor’s hand, and oxygen rushes back into her head so quickly that it makes her feel like she’s flying.  It’s a blissful feeling in itself, and her cunt twitches again.  She whimpers quietly as the motion tightens muscles around Taylor again, because she’s far too sensitive and it hurts just as much as it feels good.  

Taylor, for her part, carefully pulls out before she collapses against Karlie’s back.  They’re both panting, and Karlie can feel Taylor shaking almost as hard as she is.  They don’t say anything for a few moments, both sucking on air, and both more than a little thrown off by how much their dynamic had changed in one night.  It takes a good five minutes before Taylor is pushing up off of her, mumbling something about cleaning herself up.  

When she disappears, Karlie is finally given time to think.  She thinks about begging, about the way she’d willingly let Taylor take control.  And she realizes that, though it’s sort of humiliating that it happened, she also doesn’t regret it.  She doesn’t even regret the ache in her throat from Taylor’s hand, or the fact she will struggle to walk tomorrow when the rough fucking catches up with her.  Her eyes close, and she’s about to slide further on to the couch when Taylor returns.  Her voice is no longer the low, gruff tone from before, “Can you walk up to the bedroom?”

Karlie has to think for a few seconds before she can decide on an answer.  She’s worked out this hard before, though, so she knows she can push herself, “Yeah, I’m good.”  She kicks off the underwear still tangled around her knees, figuring they might be counter-intuitive to moving. 

Her head spins a little bit when she pushes herself into standing, however, and when she starts to stumble Taylor catches her with an arm around her waist.  Karlie smiles, cheeks flushed from exertion and embarrassment, and Taylor smiles up at her.  She’s considerably more steady as she helps Karlie up the stairs, and once they reach the bedroom, Karlie wants nothing more than to collapse on to the bed and sleep for a few solid hours.  Taylor stops her though, “Let me help you out of your dress.”

“Yes please,” Karlie murmurs in response, and Taylor doesn’t help so much as does all of the work.  Eventually the fabric hits the floor, and Karlie is naked, skin still a little shiny with sweat.  She collapses on to the bed, barely registering Taylor going to the bathroom.  She’s exhausted, and she thinks the lack of oxygen she’s been receiving the past several minutes has a lot to do with that.  She lets her eyes drift closed, and the heaviness of sleep sloshes over her like an ocean, dragging her down peacefully into the deep.

It only lasts for a moment, however, when she feels something cool against her skin.  A sleepy sound escapes her, and she opens her eyes, blinking tiredly up at Taylor.  The blonde smiles down at her, caressing her cheek with what feels like a cool washcloth, “You have lipstick and sweat everywhere.  I washed up but I figured I could help you out.”

She takes her time, gently cleaning Karlie’s face of certainly-smeared makeup and sweat.  When she gets to her neck, she’s more careful, but Karlie can feel when the rag presses on bite marks and bruises.  Taylor pulls a face, and Karlie murmurs, “How bad is it?”

“Um, if the paparazzi get shots of this people will maybe think I’m abusing you,” Taylor replies, looking a little embarrassed.

Karlie just shrugs, a sleepy jostle of her shoulders, “Like you said, I was a brat.”  She grins up at Taylor, trying to soothe the worry the other girl is probably feeling now that she’s seen exactly how rough she was, “We’re just not going to leave the bedroom until they’re faded enough for me to cover them up.”  

“A solid plan,” Taylor agrees.  Then she gets back to work, wiping down the rest of Karlie’s body, leaving occasionally to go re-wet the rag.  The last place she cleans is between Karlie’s legs, and her motions are gentle but not quite gentle enough.  Karlie gasps slightly when the edge of the cloth brushes her clit, sending a spark of pleasure and pain jolting through her, and Taylor is quick to angle her hand so it doesn’t hit right there again, “Shit.  Sorry, babe.”

Karlie gives an exaggerated groan, “I think you destroyed me.” Taylor looks a little bit smug, so Karlie kicks out at her lightly, “I’m glad you only have a dick once a month.  I don’t think I could handle this cruel treatment on a daily basis.”

Taylor laughs, leaning down to kiss her fully, something she surprisingly hadn’t done all night.  She tastes like the wine they’d had at the award show, and something sweet.  Maybe minty.  Karlie is not working at a full enough capacity to be sure.  Words are pressed into her mouth, mumbles vibrating against her lips, “I don’t think I want to be in control like that more than once a month.”

“Glad we’re in agreement then,” Karlie replies, lazily tangling her fingers in Taylor’s hair.

They kiss for a few moments, lazy connects and disconnects of lips.  Karlie feels at home in these kisses, like they’re bringing her back to an Earth the sex slingshotted her away from.  So soon enough she’s barely kissing back because she’s so close to hovering over the edge of sleep, and when her lips barely twitch in response to Taylor’s, the blonde shifts their position so Karlie is the little spoon, like usual.  The blankets are comfortingly heavy, Taylor’s arm is thin but strong around her waist, and Karlie is filled up with an ache that she doesn’t mind one bit.

They’re silent except for breathing, and Karlie isn’t even sure her words are audible when a thought hits her just hard enough to keep her vaguely awake, “You didn’t spank me.”

“Go to sleep,” Taylor replies.

Karlie thinks she hears the other girl laughing, just a little bit, and that’s more than enough to soothe her into slumber.


End file.
